


The Sex Shop Around the Corner

by sadieb798



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Deaf Character, Deaf Steve Rogers, Don't Be Fooled By The Title, F/M, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Multi, POV Tony Stark, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyfidelity, Poor Tony, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tony Stark owns a Sex Shop, Tony and Pepper are bros, because of course it is, insecurities all over the place, minor mentions of ptsd, stuckony - Freeform, the Sex Shop is called Stark Naked, this is not a Shop Around The Corner or You Got Mail AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadieb798/pseuds/sadieb798
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony really hates his job. When he tries to figure out what he wants to do next, Tony decides that instead of making weapons for war, he should make things for pleasure.</p><p>So he decides he's going to open his own sex shop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamcatchersDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamcatchersDaughter/gifts).



> I would like to thank my fellow fangirls: jakathine and inheritanceofgeek, for their constructive criticism, hand-holding, and general assurances that I do NOT suck despite what I say, and for just being made of awesome things.  
> You guys are the best, and I literally couldn't have done this without you.

Tony really hates his job. Like really  _really_ hates it.

He works for Justin Hammer as a weapons designer/developer, and he's been working with the company for about twenty years (he thinks? He did a lot of stupid shit in the nineties that totally made his long-term memory shit), and he would love it except that he works with _Hammer_ who is just trash incarnate, and the fact that he makes things that kill people. When he gets really stressed, or the job is too much for him, Tony uses sex toys as a way to take himself out of his head and help him relax. Sometimes though, they aren’t doing as good a job as he wants them to. So he refines, and eventually (accidentally) develops his own toys. Just for fun, at first.

But then he decides to quit his shitty job at Hammer after barely coming back alive from a business trip to Afghanistan. (Those shitty cheap weapons were literally the only thing that had saved Tony's life out there. The same could not be said for the envoy that was transporting him.)

When he tries to figure out what he wants to do next, Tony decides that instead of making weapons for war, he should make things for pleasure. So he decides he's going to open his own sex shop.

His first act of business, is to convince Pepper Potts to come with him.

He goes up to see her in her office on one of the days that he's technically not supposed to be there. He’s going to slowly ease his proposal into the conversation with her. Slow, easy, no rush.

“You’re too good to work here,” he tells her immediately, sitting down across from her on one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“I know I am.” She tells him simply, not even bothering to acknowledge him by looking away from her paperwork.

“So why not come work for me in a sex shop?” he asks. Smooth.

That stops her mid-signature. She blinks at the half-finished scrawl before looking up from the papers on her desk, and stares at him in disbelief. “Tony," she begins slowly, "I have a six-figure paycheck, I have good health benefits _and_ dental. Why on earth would I want to leave that and work in a sex shop?”

“I wouldn’t put you behind the counter!” He reassures, taking a pen from her desk and twirling it around in his hands just to keep them occupied. “You’d be running the business behind the scenes.”

“How _much_ of the business?” she asks, raising an enquiring eyebrow.

“I don’t know--twelve percent maybe.” He says with a shrug.

“Oh just _twelve percent?_ Wow that is just _more_ incentive for me to leave Hammer.”

Tony frowns at her and opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when Hammer knocks on her door jamb, deciding to alert them both of his presence. Prick.

“Hey Piper, we need that pretty ass of yours in the HR meeting in three,” he says and the misogynistic asshole  _winks_ at her before moving on.

Tony looks back over at her to see Pepper meeting his eyes with a determined frown. “How soon can we leave?” she asks. 

* * *

Tony submits his two-week notice by the end of the week. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries when he walked into Hammer’s office and tossed his resignation letter onto his soon-to-be ex-boss’s desk. Hammer blinked before taking the papers in hand, skimming them.

“You’re leaving me?” he asks, bewildered.

“Well yeah,” Tony replies nonchalantly. “It sucks working here.” Honesty is the best policy after all.

“And you’re taking--whatshername with you?” Hammer looks back up at him for confirmation.

“Virginia Potts. You’d know that if you bothered to learn her name instead of staring at her ass, and I think it would benefit you to remember it because one day she’s gonna rule the world and I am telling you right now she will _not_ be a merciful leader.”

“But why are you leaving me?” Hammer asks. “Is it another company? It’s Richards isn’t it? He’s stealing you away from me, right? Well whatever he’s offering, I’ll double it--”

“First off,” Tony cuts him off, raising a finger. “Reed Richards? Ew, no. Don’t make me laugh. That guy’s ego is already inflated, don’t make it bigger by mistaking that he’d be smart enough to hire someone as brilliant as me to work for him. Second,” Tony continued, holding up another finger. “No one is stealing me. I’m fed up with making phallic things that blow people up. But I’ve grown too fond of the damn shape to get rid of them completely, so I’m going to start a sex shop. It’s been a dream of mine since I could hold my dick in my hand.”

Hammer blinked at him. “You’re leaving to start a _sex shop?_ But _why?”_

And it’s by then that Tony’s had enough. With his shitty job, with this shitty person, so he just says, calmly as you please, “Hammer, if I’m going to get fucked by a dick, I’d prefer it if it were purple.”

* * *

Then Tony sells his stocks and high-rise in Manhattan, and has enough money from his sales to start up the business--and get health and dental for his employees. It’s not impressive by Hammer standards, but--you know what no, anything is better than Hammer so of course it’s better than what they’d had before. Hammer fucking _sucks_. Once they find a space that they both agree on for a location, Pepper and Tony get down to work on the interior design. As the contractors work on the shop, Pepper wants to settle on a name before they go any further, so they sit in the office and think it over. She wants to name the shop “something classy and sophisticated, Tony”.

This is how their discussion goes. 

“ ‘Sex Criminals’.”

“We can’t name a sex shop after a comic book, Tony.”

“But Fraction!”

"No." 

 

“ ‘For Your Eyes Only’.”

“Eh.”

 

“ ‘Thank You for Coming’. ”

“We’ll make it the sign on the door instead.”

 

“ ‘Toy Box’.”

“S’already taken, Pep.”

 

“ ‘Why is this so Hard?!’ ”

“That would cause too much confusion, Tony.”

 

“ ‘Satisfaction.’ ”

“Getting closer.”

“ ‘Desire’.”

“That’s a lube. We'll make those both lubricant brands.”

 

“ ‘10 Gold Rings’.”

“That’s not funny, Tony.”

 

“ ‘Neat but Discrete’.”

“That’s gotta be a slogan for a brand of pads or something, Pepper.”

Finally Pepper loses it. “Well why don’t you call it _Stark Naked_ for all I care!” she exclaimed in exasperation.

Tony's eyes widened. “THAT’S IT!" He shouted, slamming his hands on the make-shift desk they were using, his eyes bright with excitement. "THAT’S THE NAME!”

Pepper looked horrified. “No, Tony that wasn’t a _suggestion--”_

“TOO LATE! IT’S HAPPENING!”

_“Tony--”_

“My controlling eighty-eight percent, my shop!” 

They’ve been in business for two years now and it's going great.


	2. Chapter 2

The business runs itself like a well lubed machine. Pepper runs the business on the web with a small but very good team. Tony's got two other employees, Clint and Natasha that work with him behind the counter, but don’t need him to babysit them. They’re _that_ amazing as a team and Tony trusts them implicitly to run the shop on their own.

The shop is popular in the community. They take time to do talks in the local high schools about sexual orientation, gender identity and, of course, to give the sex ed talks. Tony, ever since the condom fiasco, is banned from giving said lectures, but Clint and Natasha, and even _Pepper_ , are more than welcome on school grounds. Make one little demonstration about how the condoms at the shop are fire-retardant, so they won’t overheat, and he never hears the end of it. It wasn’t _his_ fault the wiring at the school was faulty.

Business is great, and practically runs itself without Tony’s help.

But Tony _needs_ to be at the shop. If he weren’t there, he’d just be in his apartment above the shop, working on new toys, calling his buddy Bruce and bothering him on how his development on the new lubes are going--because at _Stark Naked_ everything is organic and environmentally friendly and made by professionals--or testing out their new products on himself. Tony doesn’t mind; even though he loves testing things out and making new things and tinkering away upstairs, he also loves interacting with the customers and educating them. He likes making them happy. It makes him happy and keeps him off the booze, which is a bonus since he’s been sleeping about a hundred times better compared to how he slept even before Afghanistan, when passing out drunk was the only way he got his required forty winks. Besides the shop is his _baby_ \--he can’t leave it.

The bell over the shop tinkles and Tony looks up from his stupor to see a short scrawny blond walking into the shop. He looks about sixteen.

 _Speaking of educating customers,_ Tony thinks as he watches the kid. He doesn’t call out to him; Tony doesn’t want to embarrass him further, the kid looks embarrassed enough as it is walking around in a sex shop--he doesn’t need Tony’s help. Until it turns out that the kid actually _does_ need his help by walking right up to the counter Tony’s behind with a determined glint in his eye, standing ramrod straight, and a flush on his cheeks. He looks like he’s gearing up for a fight.

“I’d like your opinion on some dildos,” he says, his voice oddly deep for a sixteen year old.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you see the sign on the door?” he asks gesturing to it. “Gotta be eighteen and over to be in here, kid.”

The kid, without even hesitating, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a battered black wallet and pulls out what looks like a license before handing it to Tony.

Tony scrutinizes the card in his hand. The date would put the kid at twenty-four now, but he doesn’t believe it. “Nice try kid, but I’ve seen better attempts at ID’s, and I’m still not selling a kid a dildo. I’d get in huge trouble.”

The kid blinks at him. “Excuse me?” he asks.

“Look, I understand,” Tony says, holding his hands up to placate him. “Hormones raging all over the place, and a crush--or two or whatever--who doesn’t know about your feelings, plus school stress on top of it all, and you’re just looking for a little relief to let off a little steam. Believe me, I _get_ it--I’ve been there.”

The kid stares at him, eyes bulging. “Are you kidding me?!” he asks, a scandalized blush stealing across his cheeks.

“Gotta say, I’m proud you’re not just getting with a random stranger and being unsafe,” Tony steams on, because when it comes to his brain to mouth filter, it’s always been at a zero. “I’m not saying I don’t _want_ to sell you a dildo! I’m just saying that legally I _can’t_ \--at least not without someone older than you to sell it _to_. So you’d have to come back with someone older than you. Just bring a cool aunt, or a cousin, or maybe someone’s older sister or brother--”

“I appreciate your concern,” the kid says, interrupting him with a glare. “But I really _am_ twenty-four. I have a job, I’m in a monogamous relationship, I pay my own bills, I go to art school--hell I even pay taxes!”

Tony cocks his head at him, evaluating. The kid doesn’t _look_ like he’s lying, and Tony’s got a feeling he’d be horrible at it even if he tried. “Do you have another form of identification?” he asks, testing the waters. The kid immediately reaches into his back pocket again for his wallet, and pulls out a laminated school ID with a bent corner, and there it is, clear as day and in big blocky letters: STEVEN G. ROGERS, SHIELD INSTITUTE OF THE ARTS, with the date of when he started below his name, and an identification number in the corner alongside the kid’s-- _guy’s_ \--birthdate.

“Oh,” says Tony looking back and forth between the blue eyes of the photo, and the real genuine articles. They’re a nice blue, Tony can’t help thinking. “Well this is embarrassing,” he says, handing both cards back to the customer.

The guy huffs a laugh in response, his tense shoulders easing. “It’s okay. Believe me, that wasn’t the worst encounter I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Tony says, before turning on the charm and smiling pleasantly at him. “So. Dildos.”

He sets him up with a nice dildo that is sleek, curved with a fat head and a lovely shade of dark blue, that has been stamped with the seal of Stark Approval. He also gives him a twenty percent discount on the store. And two bottles of their best lubricant. And a box of red, white, and blue condoms.

Once the guy leaves, Clint returns from the back where he’d been restocking the pornos.

“Did I miss anything?” he asks, joining Tony behind the counter.

“Nah,” Tony replies, leaning against the counter with his chin in the palm of his hand. “Just me embarrassing myself and a customer trying to buy a dildo.”

Clint huffs a laugh. “So what else is new?”

“This was a _cute_ customer buying a dildo,” Tony replied.

Clint raises an eyebrow at the adjective. “Sorry, got two cuties of my own,” he says with a smirk. “Not looking for a third.”

“Yeah, well apparently he’s got just the one,” Tony says with a sigh. “Too bad. I would’ve liked to have shown him how to work that dildo _personally_.”

Clint’s phone dinged with a text notification. He looked away from his boss to glance down at his phone. Tony excuses himself when he sees a couple in the far corner begin to argue over lube and goes to assist. After dissolving the situation, and picking out the--quite frankly-- _better_ of the two lubes they’d been arguing over, Tony goes back to the counter to check them out.

“What’s happening? Was that Agent?” Tony asks, nodding at the phone in Clint’s hands as he rings up the lube couple.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Just because my boyfriend likes to wear suits does not make him an agent for a questionable, yet menacing government agency, Tony,” he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“You say that and yet,” Tony replies, giving the customers their purchases and watching them leave. “How is Agent adjusting to the whole triangular equation, anyway?”

“He’s fine,” Clint said easily before falling silent. “In fact,” he began casually after a beat of silence. “Tasha and I are having a party for Phil at our place this Friday. You should come; it’d be loads of fun.”

Tony looked at him. “A party?” he asked, scrunching up his face in distaste. “As in a ‘we’re all officially together and being all relationship-y and we want you to be happy for us’ party?”

“Yup,” Clint said, taking care to pop the _p._ He shrugged. “Unless you’re busy, then it’s fine. But I just thought we don’t hang out much outside of the shop, and it’d be good for you to get out, meet people--”

“Hey I get out plenty,” Tony retorted.

“Oh yeah?” Clint asked, arching an eyebrow. “When was the last social encounter you’ve had--that _didn’t_ involve talk about sex toys, lubes, pornos, or any of the products you just _happen_ to sell?” he interrupted before Tony even had a chance to open his mouth.

Tony pouted. “Well that’s just not fair,” he said. “Regular conversation is boring without at _least_ bringing up kinks.” At Clint’s look, he groaned in resignation. “ _Fine_ , I’ll come to your stupid relationship party,” he turned back to the register with a grimace.

Clint beamed. “Great! Dinner’s at eight, and you can bring chips, and a welcome-to-the-team gift.”

Tony grumbled in acknowledgement before getting back to work. Friday couldn’t be over fast enough.

* * *

It was unheard of for Tony to be on time or early for anything in his life. He’s even been known to be at _least_ two hours late for his own social gatherings and meetings. His personal philosophy generally was he’d get there when he’d get there. After all, time waits for no one.

But on Friday night, the shop was dead so Tony had decided to close early. He showered at his apartment, and once he deemed himself presentable, managed to buy chips and dip at a local store. By the time he made it to Clint’s to-do, he found himself at least twenty minutes earlier than anticipated and was man-handled by Natasha to help set the table, while she and Coulson moved around the kitchen in a ballet of tasting, preparing, and attending to the fucking delicious aromas coming from the direction of the kitchen.

It was just approaching eight o’clock when a knock came at the door. “How many people are you expecting?” Tony asked Clint, who had just finished laying out the cups on the table.

“Just a coupla more,” Clint replied going to the door and pulling it open. “Bucky!” He exclaimed enthusiastically as he hugged the stranger at the door.

The incredibly _hot_ stranger, Tony amended once Clint moved to the side a bit and he got a good look at Tall, Dark and Brooding. Broody took off his dark green coat and handed it to Clint, revealing broad shoulders, a trim waist underneath a navy sweater that looked soft enough to touch and jeans that hugged his legs in all the right places, and one glove that remained on his left hand for some reason.

“Where’s the boyfriend?” Clint asked shutting the door behind Broody. _Ah well,_ Tony sighed, going back to his work; candles couldn’t light themselves. Tony briefly played with the idea of adding this guy to his “Me Time” fantasies.

“Dumbass got sick,” Broody replied in a gravelly voice that sent shivers down Tony’s spine. _Definitely_ added to his “Me Time” fantasies.

“Oh no!” Clint said, disappointed. “Well thanks for coming anyway. It means a lot--”

“Did you really get a fucking _dog_ , Barton?” asked Broody suddenly. Tony looked back over his shoulder. The one-eyed labrador had wandered over to Broody, who held his hand out for the dog to sniff. When Lucky deemed him pizza-less, he turned tail, uninterested and wandered back into the kitchen.

“Yup,” Clint said proudly, brushing the dog’s fur as he passed. “Saw him get hit by a car and couldn’t just leave him out on the road.”

“Clint’s a sucker for strays,” Natasha said, entering the room gracefully, her short red curls bobbing with her graceful movement. She went over and held her arms out for Broody, waiting patiently.

“Yeah I noticed,” Broody said wryly, gently wrapping her up in an embrace.

Clint frowned. “I couldn’t help it that Lucky was cute!” he defended.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but put a hand on her boyfriend’s arm to show she was joking. “Usually when someone in a relationship gets an animal, it’s a puppy.”

“In his defense,” Coulson said, poking his head through the hole in the wall separating the rest of the apartment from the kitchen. “Clint’s never been one for the traditional route.”

“True,” Natasha acknowledged, smiling.

“Dinner’s ready,” Coulson said before ducking back into the kitchen, his boyfriend and girlfriend following his example by leaving the room.

Tony and Broody--or was it Bucky? The hell kinda name was that anyway?--stared at the kitchen door in silence, and caught glimpses of the triad moving around through the hole in the wall. Tony kept glancing back at his reluctant companion. He stood awkwardly off to the side, close to the door to the apartment, as if he was going to bolt any minute and was just waiting for the opportunity. His shoulders were hunched, hands clenched at his sides. He just continued to stare at the kitchen door.

He was obviously uncomfortable. Luckily--or unluckily, depending on who you asked--Tony was good at dispelling discomfort like a magician dispelled rabbits with his cape.

“It really is disgusting how adorable they are,” Tony piped up. Broody looked up at him, as though just noticing Tony was there. His eyes were a shocking shade of blue. Tony offered a tiny smile of ‘eh what can you do’. “It makes it worse that they have a fucking _dog_ ,” Tony continued, “but I happen to know for a fact that the dog was here _before_ Natasha and Coulson were, so Lucky doesn’t count as a relationship pet. Well, to be fair, he was here at least a _week_ before Natasha finally moved in.”

Broody offered him answering twitch of his lips. Tony perked right up.

“That sounds like Clint all right,” Broody said, angling his body towards Tony.

“Tony Stark,” Tony said, offering him his hand.

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky replied, taking Tony’s hand, gripping it gently, but there was clear indication of the strength there.

“Tell me that’s your porno name,” Tony said, lips twitching in amusement.

Bucky chuckled lightly. “Short for James Buchanan, actually. Bucky’s just less of a mouth-full.”

“Right,” Tony agreed, nodding. “Well mine’s easy. Stark--rolls off the tongue. And before you ask, yes, it’s ‘Stark’ as in ‘ _Stark Naked’.”_

“I have no idea what that means,” Bucky said blankly. Then tracked his eyes up and down Tony’s body appreciatively before flicking them back up to meet Tony’s eyes. “Apart from the obvious disappointment.”

Tony’s eyes widened. Son of a bitch!

“Don’t tell me Barton hasn’t told you I’m his boss!” he exclaimed, ignoring the check-out. For now, anyway (he’d have to get Bucky back somehow). “Hey Clint!” he called when the man in question and his two partners came back into the room, carrying delicious-smelling goods with them. “You didn’t tell Bucky where you work? I’m shocked by your sudden, yet inevitable betrayal! I thought we wanted everyone to know about the shop!”

Clint rolled his eyes as he set the bread down. “Get over yourself, Stark, your sex shop isn’t the center of the universe.”

“Well it’s the center of _my_ universe, thank-you-very-much,” Tony huffed before turning back to Bucky. “But seriously, if you need any sextoys or lube or whatever, feel free to stop by the shop.”

“ _Stark Naked?”_ Bucky asked. Tony nodded in confirmation. “Good name,” Bucky said in approval.

Tony smiled brightly. _“Thank_ you!” he exclaimed. A small smile tugged on Bucky’s lips. “You would _not_ believe how much beef I get from the co-owner for deciding on that name! But seriously,” he suddenly whispered, conspiratorially to his new best friend, “if you need anything--”

“I’ll certainly keep it in mind,” Bucky reassured dryly with a quirk of his lips.

* * *

Dinner goes better than Tony anticipated. Of course the food is fucking delicious, given that Coulson and Natasha did all the cooking because Clint was shit at making anything other than, for some inexplicable reason, damn good coffee. But Tony was surprised by Bucky and the easy camaraderie they fall into, given Bucky’s initial awkwardness before they started talking.

But as the evening wore on, Bucky’s slowly being eased out of his shell, sitting next to Tony chatting over turkey and cranberry sauce and potato leek soup, not full out laughing at Tony’s stories yet, but that’s his goal for the night. It’s going well, apart from the look Natasha throws Tony's way, like he’s a science experiment she’s studying intently under her microscope. It’s fucking creepy is what it is.

“So how do you guys know each other?” Tony asked, taking a bite of the vegetables that Natasha had placed on his plate like the Russian mother hen she claims she isn’t. Clint snorts from his spot next to Natasha, across from Tony. She gives him a look of amusement.

It’s Bucky who speaks up. “Clint and I served together,” he gestures at Clint with his spoon. “Two tours of duty at least. And Natasha and I were dating briefly at the time of our first tour.”

Tony coughed, nearly choking on his food in surprise. Coulson thumped his back helpfully, before Tony took a sip of his water and waved him away. “Are you serious?” he asks once he can manage it.

“Yup,” Clint replied. “When we were both on leave, he took me to his place for our stay and he introduced me to Tasha.”

Tony frowned. “How did _that_ go?” he asked, turning to Bucky.

“They got along like a house on fire,” Bucky supplied.

“That must have been awkward,” Tony replied.

Bucky shrugged. “Literally couldn’t do a thing to stop them.”

A hush fell over the table as everyone began really paying attention to the food. It wasn’t awkward at all, it was a content sort of silence if anything, but Tony couldn’t help feeling awkward by the casualness of the conversation and the accepted ease of the company around him nonetheless. But no one was making a huge deal of it, so Tony tried not to let it bother him; if they were more than okay with it, then he should be too.

“So, Coulson what’s your relationship with Bucky?” asked Tony, looking to his left at the turtle-necked dork and waggling his eyebrows.

As Coulson brought a spoonful of the soup to his lips, he shrugged. “Nothing yet,” he replied. Tony laughed.

* * *

Over pie and Clint’s magical coffee, Tony and Bucky have a conversation about relationships. Clint, Coulson, and Tasha had disappeared into the kitchen for clean-up about a half an hour ago, taking their labrador with them.

“How long have you and your guy been together?” Tony asked, bringing his coffee mug to his lips for a sip. “You _are_ with a guy, right?”

Bucky nodded. “That depends on your definition of ‘together’,” he said. He’d become far more relaxed over the course of their conversations: sitting sprawled back in his chair, with his legs spread outwards, his feet almost touching Tony’s underneath the table, and his arms resting crossed over his chest. At Tony’s raised eyebrow, he explained. “We’ve been friends since middle school, but we began dating after my first tour of duty, after Nat and I broke up.”

“Aw,” Tony gushes with a quirk of his lips. Bucky shrugs. “So? How’d you meet?”

“Punk was getting his ass kicked by some kids that were bigger than him.”

Tony stared. Well that was the furthest thing he expected to hear. He’d been expecting something along the lines of ‘I needed a black crayon and he let me borrow his,’ or ‘he let me cheat off his homework’. But definitely not that.

“He’d actually managed to get a few good punches in before I came along,” Bucky continued with a proud smile. “You wouldn’t think it, with how tiny he is. But he was outnumbered, and that wasn’t a fair fight, no matter how small he was. So I stepped in and rescued him, and before I knew it, he became my best friend.”

Tony nods. “Nice, nice,” he says, going back to his coffee. “But how’d you two get together?”

“I’d had a hopeless crush on him since about the time we were nursing our bruises that same day we met,” Bucky began, being more than forthcoming with supplying the information. “But I didn’t want to pressure him into something, so I never told him. Then when we got to high school, I would set him up with dates--sometimes dragging him on a double date, sometimes not. But after my first leave was over, and I was meant to ship out again, I made plans to take him and a coupla girls out dancing, but he didn’t want to go on a double date. Despite my best efforts at trying to convince him, he refused.” Bucky says, smirking in memory and shaking his head in disbelief. Tony was silent, rapt.

“Punk decided to stay home instead, and I felt so guilty and stupid that I cancelled my own date, and on the night of, surprised him with a box of pizza and a six-pack. We stayed up late, watching crappy TV and getting drunk.”

He smiled softly at the memory of it, his eyes practically aglow with warmth.

“Then we kissed and it felt so natural.” There was a long beat of silence before Bucky shrugged. “And we’ve been together ever since.”

Tony blinked. He felt something glow inside himself just seeing that look on Bucky’s face and tried to squash that feeling down. He turned back to face his now-cold coffee before clearing his throat. “Well who’s the sickeningly adorable couple now?” he asked wryly.

Bucky laughed so hard that Clint came in to see what was happening. Tony still feels immense pride at that to this day.

* * *

He and Bucky parted ways that night, and that had been fine. But then a week passes, and Tony can’t get him out of his head. It probably doesn’t help that Tony pulls up a visual of Bucky whenever he needs to test a new product. Tony’s really hoping Bucky’ll stop by the shop, so then at least he can badly flirt with the guy, but he’s not holding out much hope for that actually happening considering how much time has passed.

However he’s surprised when on Tuesday, the scrawny blond-haired guy who bought the dildo that Tony embarrassed walks into the shop.

“Hey,” Tony greets, standing up straight. The guy flushes once he sees him, and yeah, Tony can’t blame him for it after what happened last time. He steps right up to the counter though. He’s wearing a pinched expression of pain and Tony’s wondering who gave him a lemon to suck on. Tony raises his eyebrows at him expectantly.

“Um,” the guy says, “hi. Again.”

“Welcome back,” Tony says, easily. “Got tired of ol’ blue already, huh?” he teases. Somehow finding out that the guy wasn’t as young as he had appeared made the idea of teasing him much more appealing to Tony.

The guy’s face flushes. “What? Oh. Um. No.”

Before Tony can say anything, Clint comes back from rearranging their stock of strap-ons. “Steve! Hey!” he says brightly, running past the counter and pulling the guy--Steve--into a fierce hug.

“Hi Clint,” the shorter of the two muffles into Clint’s shoulder.

“Good to see you,” Clint says, pulling back and smiling down at the blond.

“You know him?” Tony asks, surprised.

“Yeah, I’ve known him a few years,” Clint replied. “Steve was supposed to come to our party--we missed you, by the way--but he couldn’t make it.”

“Huh,” Tony said, because what else were you supposed to say to that.

“Tony Stark, Steve Rogers,” Clint introduced, gesturing to each of them. “Tony’s my boss and the owner of the very shop we stand in, Steve.”

Tony gives him a wave and a friendly smile. Steve flushes and averts his eyes. “We’ve met,” he groused.

Tony frowns. It wasn’t _that_ bad of a first meeting--not ideal, sure, but not awful either. Tony’s had much worse; practically a whole list of ‘em from when he still worked at Hammer. His first meeting with Pepper was practically in the top five bracket of Bad First Meetings. His first meeting with the Dean of MIT was in the top three tier.

“How was the party?” Steve asks, looking directly back at Clint, and Tony notices the hearing aid strapped around his customer’s left ear for the first time. “Did Bucky have a good time?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint reassures. “Hung out with this idiot the entire time,” He says, tilting his head at Tony. “Became thick as thieves.”

Steve nodded. “Well that’s...that’s good.”

“Wait you know _Bucky_ too?” Tony asks, astounded. What the fuck, did _everyone_ in New York know Clint?

Clint looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are you talking about? Didn’t Bucky tell you--”

“So I was wondering if I could get your help again,” Steve practically shouts over Clint, whirling back around to face Tony, drawing his attention away from his employee.

Tony blinks. “Um, sure,” he said. “What can I help you with?”

“Lubricant,” Steve says without blinking. “My partner and I need some, um, lubricant.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What was wrong with _Desire?”_ he asked; that was their most popular brand of lube in the shop.

“Used it all.” He said it like it was no big deal.

“I gave you _two bottles.”_

Steve shrugs, his face still a bright pink.

“What, did you use it all on the first day?” Tony asked, shocked as he rounded the counter, exchanging places with Clint (who was doing his best not to snicker but failing horribly). Steve kept his mouth shut. Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay, did you want more of that stuff, or--?”

“I was hoping to, uh, expand,” Steve said, following Tony to the wall of lubes on the other side of the store. “On, on lube.”

“Expand on lube,” Tony repeats. “Okay.”

Tony sent him on his way an hour later with another brand of lube.

* * *

Steve comes back a few days later. This time he’s insistent on _another_ brand of lube.

“I can’t believe this,” Tony grumbled as he looked over the shop’s collection. “I’m not shaming you on your sex life or anything,” he says quickly. “I’m all for sex marathons, and your patronage is more than appreciated, but this is the _third brand_ of lube, ace.”

“Yeah, uh,” Steve said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just that I was allergic to the last brand.”

Tony whirls around to look at him. _“What?!”_ he shrieks, drawing a few stares from the other patrons.

Steve blushes, looking around. “Um yeah. Scared the hell outta my boyfriend when I started blowing up like a balloon. Jerk’s too freaked out now to mess around, so we’re gonna take it easy for a while.”

Tony stares at him. Steve averts his gaze, looking all over the shop before redirecting his eyes to Tony. “Give me a list of your allergies,” Tony says.

Steve’s eyes widen. “Why?” he asks.

“Dude, you had an _allergic reaction_ to our lubricants, and not only _didn’t sue us_ when you blew up like a balloon, but _came back for another product._ ” Tony dove into their collection with renewed vigor. “That loyalty deserves a reward. Now come on, lay it all on me.”

As it turns out Steve is practically allergic to _everything in existence_ , and it’s a good thing that ninety-five point five percent of their stock is organic otherwise Tony’s sure Steve would have died a long time ago from exposure. It was a miracle he hadn’t after that last episode. It’s a challenge for Tony to find him something he’s _not_ allergic to while browsing with him in the store, but he eventually does and promises to make more products catered to suit Steve’s medical needs.

* * *

Then a few days after that, Steve’s there again and this time, it’s for a gift for his boyfriend.

“So how’s that ‘taking it easy’ thing been going for you two?” Tony asks with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

“Shuddup,” Steve says, blushing but smiling.

And a few days after that, he comes back to get Tony’s opinion on anal plugs.

During the course of Steve’s visits, Tony starts learning a few things about his new favorite regular.

Number One: Steve’s partially deaf. He’s had to ask Tony to repeat himself so many times in conversation--and Tony’s accidently turned his back on Steve, so the poor guy hadn’t known that Tony had even asked him a question until Tony had turned back around expecting an answer--that now whenever Steve comes into the shop, Tony automatically looks straight at Steve so that he can read Tony’s lips and tries his best not to ask Steve stuff while Tony’s got his back turned.

Number Two: Steve’s diabetic and he needs a fucking inhaler. He had an asthma attack in the shop once, and his inhaler was fucking empty, and Tony was the only one around to call the ambulance. Tony had given him a long lecture about giving him a heart attack when he saw Steve again and they’d gotten into a fight over it, but ultimately agreed that Steve needed to take better care of himself and not scare people. Tony felt oddly grateful that Steve wasn’t dead, but not because he was quickly becoming one of Tony’s favorite customers, and gave him a huge discount on anything on the store.

Number Three: Steve may be small, but he’s also feisty as hell and can’t leave well enough alone. Once there was a woman in the shop, who was being kinkshamed by her boyfriend over some stupid vibrator, and Steve stood up to the bastard, telling him off for shaming his partner, and got punched in the nose for it. After the cops came and took the boyfriend away, Tony let Natasha look after the shop and took Steve up to his apartment to nurse his nose where he offered him a job at the shop. Steve assured him he was happy working at _Fury Comics_ , but appreciated the gesture regardless.

Number Four: Steve draws comics for a living and goes to art school. Steve is also a sarcastic little shit and has a wry sense of humor and Tony loves teasing that side out of him.

* * *

It’s around this time that Steve’s made himself a regular at the shop that Bucky suddenly turns up again into Tony’s life.

It’s a surprise to say the least, since Tony hadn’t expected to see him again, given how long it’d been since they last saw each other. But when the literal man of his fantasies turned up at the shop, looking even more delectable than Tony remembered and making his mouth water, Tony sprang on the opportunity.

“Well you took your sweet time,” Tony says by way of greeting. Bucky smiled.

“You _did_ say to come in if I needed something,” Bucky reminded him, leaning against the counter.

Tony crossed his arms over the glass counter. “So take your pick, hot shot,” he said with a teasing smirk. Bucky smirks back, making Tony’s stomach do an odd flip.

Bucky browses through the store. He takes his time before his eyes land on an anal plug and he chuckles. “Have I ever told you the story of my and Punk’s first adventure with these things?” he asks lifting up one of the plugs.

They spend the next two hours bonding over horrible sex stories, swapping them back and forth like they’re trading books to read, and this is the solidifying component to their friendship. Tony gets Bucky’s number, and he tries not to preen over it like a peacock. He gives himself a reality check that Bucky’s in a pretty serious relationship, and not looking to cheat on his guy (or “Punk” has he’s affectionately known) with anyone, not even Tony and Tony’s just fine with being friends with him. He still uses Bucky in his fantasies though. And somehow Steve began to crop up in those “Me Time” sessions too, startling an orgasm out of Tony more than a few times.

And just like during the course of Steve’s visits, but with the added benefit of texting, Tony starts learning a few things about Bucky.

Number One: Not only is Bucky sassy and mouthy as hell, but he’s also quick, charming, and sexy. But something Tony didn’t know about this man, who is quickly becoming one of Tony’s favorite people, is that Bucky recently returned from Afghanistan barely a year ago and suffers from PTSD.

When Tony asks him about it, Bucky reassures him that he can “deal with it” and that he’s “handling it”.

Tony frowns at him. “I was asking about _you._ Are _you_ okay?”

Bucky blinks at him, like no one’s ever asked him that question before. “It’s more of a day-by-day type of thing,” he says truthfully. “I’ve been better, and I’ve been worse. But since I started my meds and going to therapy regularly, the good days happen more often than the bad days.”

Tony nods. “Well, that’s--that’s good.” There’s a pause where neither of them say anything. “So, uh, you had a question about bondage?” Tony asks. He feels lame for the clumsy conversation shift.

But the grateful look Bucky shoots him makes his stomach untwist and they talk about ropes and handcuffs.

Number Two: Bucky has a mechanical arm.

No seriously, he’s not even joking, the guy’s left arm is made of _metal_ .

Tony didn’t find out until on a random day that Bucky was in, Tony had been showing Bucky how to angle his hand for sex purposes, when suddenly there was a snap and Bucky turned as white as a sheet.

“Bucky you okay?” Tony asked immediately, coming closer to his side and beginning to panic when Bucky didn’t answer and just looked like he was in even more pain. He knelt down on the floor.

Natasha, thankfully, had been at the shop and knew exactly what to do. She hopped over the counter she’d been behind, and sprinted to Bucky’s side. “James are you alright?” she asked. He grunted and shook his head. “Is it your arm?” He nodded. She tsked in disapproval. “How long has it been since you’ve gotten it looked at?”

At Bucky’s silence, Natasha frowned. Then drew closer to his ear. “Tony is an engineer,” she whispered. “Would you feel better if he was the one to look at it?”

Bucky silently considered, then nodded.

Natasha nodded, determined. Then she gripped Bucky’s right arm by his elbow and slowly helped him onto his feet, and focused a sharp look on Tony. “I’m going to take him up to your apartment,” she started, “then I am going to come back down, and you are going to help him.” Her order brooked no argument, so he let them go without protest.

When Natasha finally came back downstairs, she still looked a little perturbed, but her air of professionalism was back. “I put him on your couch and made him some tea,” she said, standing beside him at the counter. “Give him five minutes and then go upstairs. You’ll need your tools.”

Tony nodded. “What’s wrong?” he asked. It made it easier to have this conversation if they weren’t looking at each other.

She hesitated for a few minutes before saying simply, “He thinks he’s damaged. But he’s not. He’s just been dealt a bad hand and has to live with it.”

“That’s not an answer,” Tony said.

“Not my answer to give,” she replied.

After his five minutes were up, Tony left the shop in Natasha’s more-than-capable hands and went up to his apartment. Bucky looked a little out of place sitting on his couch, in the same spot where Steve had sat when he got his nose broken by the angry customer. Tony went into the spare bedroom he kept as a lab and got his big red box of tools before joining Bucky in the living room.

“No, please make yourself at home,” Tony joked, coming closer towards him. Bucky sat huddled in on himself, gripping his left arm protectively. He looked like a wolf licking its wounds.

“So what am I dealing with here?” Tony asked, sitting down in front of his patient.

Bucky hesitated. “My arm,” he began. “It hurts too fucking much to move. Do you have scissors or something?” Tony frowned at him, but nodded. “You’re going to have to cut off my shirt,” Bucky explained.

Tony’s eyes widened, but he went to his desk and got his scissors. “Not exactly how I imagined this would go, Barnes, but I’m not complaining,” he said as he began to cut along the seam to Bucky’s long-sleeved shirt. He briefly admired the firmness of Bucky’s chest and the cut of his abs, before moving back upwards to the arm where the problem lay.

He paused when he saw silver instead of skin.

He cut a line in the sleeve, slowly pulling back the fabric to find that Bucky’s left arm was made entirely of metal.

“And the glove,” Bucky said quietly.

Tony snapped out of his brown-study and cut the glove off too, revealing a metallic hand with silver fingers.

Tony sat back once he got the entire shirt off Bucky and just stared at the arm, mouth clamped firmly shut, but eyes riveted to the--well. Rivets.

“Yeah I know,” Bucky says, obviously self-conscious. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s beautiful,” Tony says. He takes a few minutes to study the arm. “Out-dated, sure, and probably hurting like hell, but the design’s gorgeous--” he drags his eyes away from the metallic gleam of Bucky’s arm to find the man himself staring at him. He blinks in astonishment. Bucky’s looking at him like Tony’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

Tony clears his throat. “So it needs fixing, yeah?” he asks, twirling a screwdriver in his hand. “Luckily for you, before I became an entrepreneur, I was a mechanic for one of the biggest weapon manufacturers in the world. This’ll be kid’s stuff compared to what I had to do on a daily basis.”

He continues talking to try to distract Bucky. “So, what’s the story here? Or is that classified?” he asks as he tries to pry open the casing to the arm.

Bucky huffs in amusement. “Not classified, just...not a light topic.”

Tony hums in understanding. “So I take it that this had something to do with Afghanistan?”

Bucky bristled, but doesn’t jerk away. “Yeah,” he said. Tony felt like an idiot for asking about it so flippantly; what the fuck was he thinking?

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Tony said, before Bucky shook his head to stop whatever Tony was about to say next.

“No,” he said. “You need to know. I was traveling with an envoy when we were attacked and one of the tanks flipped over, landing on top of me and crushing my arm. They couldn’t save it.”

Tony hummed again. “Been there, done that, do not want a repeat performance,” he made a pleased noise when he finally got the casing open. Then made a noise of disgust. “Ugh! What _is_ with the wiring on this thing? It’s no wonder it hurts so bad--the wirings a complete mess!” he launches into a tirade over the arm as he begins, as gently as he can, to separate wires and getting them into proper order. “Where’d you even _get_ this monstrosity of terrible inner-workings?”

Bucky coughed, trying to hide a small smile. “I got into a trial program at Hammer Tech for vets--”

“Do _not_ mention that name in my presence again!” Tony cries, cutting his patient off. “Don’t you worry buddy, I’ll get this sorted out and get it working better than normal.”

“Friends of yours?” Bucky asks, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“If you only knew,” grumbled Tony, turning his attention back to the arm.

* * *

And a few hours later, Tony is true to his word as he watches Bucky flex his arm and fingers in amazement. “It moves so much better now,” he says in awe, staring down at his hand as if he’s never seen it attached to him before.

“Good,” Tony says with a nod, gathering up his tools. “That means I haven’t lost my touch.” He smiles, pleased with himself.

“Tony, if you can do work like this, why the _fuck_ are you running a sex shop?” Bucky asks, looking away from his fingers and at Tony.

Tony paused in his movements. He took a moment to compose himself before sighing. “I used to work for Hammer,” he says, settling back into his seat. “I was the best at making the biggest, baddest weapons in the company. But Hammer wanted bigger and badder, and I started hating myself more and more. So I drank and did dumb shit to numb the feelings I had about what I was doing. One of those things was sex with random strangers, but even they began to drain and bore me. So I used sex toys as a way to take myself out of my head and make everything shut up for a while. But the toys began to not do the trick anymore, so I began tinkering around and sort of, kind of, accidentally began designing my own.

“Then I went on a business trip to Afghanistan, and saw for myself what the weapons I'd designed were doing--but in the hands of the guys we were up against.” He gave Bucky a watery smile that he knew wasn’t reaching his eyes. “Fortunately I was spared because I got hit with a weapon Hammer himself designed--‘the Ex-Wife’ he’d called it--which was shit, and didn’t do as much damage as it was supposed to.” His smile dropped microscopically and he closed his eyes against Bucky’s penetrating stare. “Unfortunately the soldiers who were escorting me were hit by those bigger, badder weapons I’d designed. Those ones worked perfectly.”

There was a long beat of silence. Tony opened his eyes to Bucky sliding his cool hand over Tony’s and squeezed his fingers. Tony looked up briefly. Bucky had sat back down across from him and was holding his hand in support. Tony looked away and sniffled, holding back his tears.

“So I quit my crappy job as a weapons designer and opened a sex shop,” he said once he could manage it, trying again for a smile.

Bucky stared at him, his clear blue eyes assessing. “But why a sex shop?”

Tony shrugged. “Make love, not war.”

Bucky’s lips quirked in a smile.

Tony cleared his throat. “But, uh, if you want. I can, you know, design you a new arm. A _better_ arm, one that won’t freeze up on you, or give you problems or--”

“Yes,” Bucky says immediately, cutting him off. Tony blinks at him. “Yes,” he repeats quietly, “that’d be great, Tony. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

They make plans for a new arm and fall into conversation like they’ve been friends for years instead for a few weeks.

* * *

It becomes a sort of game of Tony’s to see who will turn up at the shop, Bucky or Steve. Steve’s ahead by two visits, but Bucky’s quickly catching up. Then they fall into a pattern: Steve showing up in the mornings or early afternoons, and Bucky coming into the store in the early evenings, sometimes staying late until closing, where he’ll join Tony up at his apartment and they’ll work on his arm.

On the day that the arm is finally completed, Bucky stood, shirtless in the middle of Tony’s living room, smiling brilliantly down at his new, beautiful, one-of-a-kind Stark prosthetic arm.

“This is amazing, Tony,” he breathes.

Which really isn’t helping Tony get over the crush he’s had on Bucky since Day One, and the attraction hasn’t died down at all since Tony began to get to know him.

Tony shrugs. “It’s no problem,” he says, packing up his tools. “Anyway just let me know if it gives you problems, and come by once a month for maintenance.”

When Bucky doesn’t immediately answer and the silence drags on, Tony looks up to see Bucky staring down at him. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing, I just,” Bucky shakes his head. “Can I...can I take you out? As a way to say thank you?”

Tony blinked at him. “Like a date?” he asks. Bucky nods.

“Uh,” Tony started, awkwardly. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, Barnes, but aren’t you in a committed relationship or something?”

Bucky huffs a sigh, and sits heavily down on Tony’s couch. He rakes a hand through his dark hair before looking back up at Tony. There’s a dragged out silence.

“The thing is, Punk’s my guy,” Bucky starts, “no question about it, he’s it for me. Soulmates, true love, whatever you wanna call it, that’s him for me. Yeah, I love him, he’s the first person I’ve ever loved, and he’ll be the one till the end of the line. But,” Bucky clenches his fingers into a fist. “Things have been pretty...strenuous between us. Ever since I got back, he’s been handling me with kid gloves, and being gentle, which was fine--at _first_. But now he’s acting like I’m made of glass, and that I’ll break any minute. It’s annoying as all hell, and hasn’t exactly been helping our relationship. So, we both decided we’re going to try to have an open relationship--just to see how that goes for us.”

He looked up at Tony expectantly. “And I’d like to take you out, if you’d let me,” he said.

“I honestly have no idea what to say to that,” Tony said. When in doubt, shoot for honesty.

Bucky closes his eyes in resignation. “Yeah," he replies, "I understand.”

“But I’d like it,” Tony said. Bucky looked up at him, surprised. Tony shrugged. “Why not? Let’s give it a whirl.”

Bucky’s answering smile practically glowed.

They go to the shawarma place up the street. They laugh, and talk and end the night with a kiss that makes Tony’s toes curl.

It’s one of the best dates Tony’s been on in a long time.

* * *

Before Tony knows it, a few months had gone by, and he and Bucky were _dating_. But they'd both agreed that they weren’t exclusive, and that’s a huge relief to Tony, who was beginning to become concerned about his growing attractions to not just Bucky, but also to Steve. Then one day while Steve’s there at the shop, going on about a difficult commission he had over the week, it suddenly occurs to Tony that he’s known both Steve and Bucky for a year.

“Hey Steve we’re friends right?” he blurts, cutting him off mid-rant.

Steve looks at him like he’s gone crazy, but doesn’t bring up that Tony interrupted him. “Did you only sleep for two minutes again?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, but embracing the conversation change.

Tony rolled his eyes. That happened _one time_. “No, _mom_ , I got the required four hours--”

“We agreed on six!” Steve interrupts, irate.

“And sometimes I _do_ sleep six,” Tony assures. “But are we friends? Like would that be something you’d call us?”

Steve looks at him like he wants to say something, but he’s holding it back. “Yeah, we’re friends,” he says instead. “Why? What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Tony shrugs. “It just occurred to me that we’ve known each other a year exactly.”

Steve blinked. “Huh,” he says considering. “Whaddya know.”

“ ‘Whaddya know’,” Tony scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Bring up the one year anniversary, and the guy says _whaddya know_ ,” Tony shakes his head in lament. “It’s amazing you still have your boyfriend, what with the way you forget anniversaries and all.”

Steve blushes, and Tony can’t help his smile. Steve’s adorable blushes are one of his favorite things about the dork. He has to admit, that he’s glad he and Bucky aren’t exclusive, otherwise he’d feel immense guilt over the tiny bud of a crush he’s had on his favorite regular since his asthma attack all those months ago.

“I do _not_ forget anniversaries,” Steve says defensively, eyes narrowing.

“You wouldn’t have done anything if I hadn’t said something,” Tony says with a teasing smile.

“Why’re you making it sound like we’re dating?” Steve asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Aren’t we?” Tony asks in mock-hurt, pouting his lips and batting his eyelashes.

“No,” Steve says hesitantly, drawing out the word. And Tony’s about to continue with the game, but Steve cuts him off before he even has a chance. “But if you wanted to--” he cuts himself off quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stares at Tony in wide-eyed horror.

Tony frowns. “If I wanted to?” he leads, raising an eyebrow and making a ‘continue’ motion with his hand.

“If you wanted to ask me out on a date,” Steve says, staring at him determinedly. “I’d say yes.”

Tony’s eyes widen in surprise, and he can’t help but just stare at his favorite regular.

Steve’s eyes drop from his, staring down at the counter. “But I can understand if you didn’t want to--”

“Steve it’s not that I _don’t want to,”_ Tony says quickly. “I very much _want_ to--” Steve looks up at him with so much hope in his face that it makes Tony’s heart flutter in his chest “--but what about Jerk? You guys are practically married! Why would you--?”

“We’ve, uh, we’ve been having some...problems. So we’re trying an open relationship, just to see if we like it or not.” Steve looks embarrassed to admit it.

Tony stares at him, bewildered and a little sad for Steve. “Well there’s nothing wrong with that,” he says reassuringly, because he’ll be damned if he’s going to make Steve feel paranoid about this mutual decision. He probably gets enough of that ignorant opinionated bullshit from his other friends. “Polyamory is a thing too, and it’s been going well for Clint, Tasha, and Coulson, so why not?”

“Does that mean you’ll go out with me?” Steve asks, staring at him with bright eyes.

Tony can’t say no to that face. “Yeah, dork. I’ll go out with you. But on one condition!” Tony said, raising a finger and pointing it at Steve. “You give me your phone number.”

Steve frowns at him in confusion. “You _have_ my phone number,” he points out to him.

Tony waves that preposterous thought away. “That’s for the _shop_ , I want you to give me your number for _me_.”

Steve stares at him. Then, coming to a decision, heads behind the counter, grabs Tony’s cell phone where he knows Tony stashes it and programs his number in and sends a text to himself.

“There,” he says, snapping it shut and handing it back to Tony. “Now you have it.” He gets out from behind the counter and starts heading towards the door. Once he’s there, he hesitates before turning back to look at Tony. “So how does Friday sound?” he asks.

Tony fires a text at him. Steve frowns as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He smiles at the response before looking up at Tony again with a raised eyebrow. “Eight o’clock? I’ll meet you here?” Tony texts him an affirmative. Steve’s face brightens. “Great, I’ll see you then,” he says, pulling the door open.

“Now was that so hard?” Tony teases, calling out to him.

“You have no idea,” Steve returns, smirking and making his exit.

Tony smiles.

Steve and Tony go out ice skating.

Steve’s a natural and Tony’s absolutely shit at it.

They must have looked hilarious together: Tony, legs spread wide and moving slowly on the ice, holding the hands of a guy who’s at least a head shorter than him for stability. He’s proud to say he’d only fallen a few times, but by the time they’re done, his ass is sore. They drink hot chocolate and stand at the sidelines watching the other skaters. Afterwards Steve walks him back home, both of them talking and teasing each other before they reach the door to Tony's apartment, where Steve gently kisses him good night, making Tony’s heart do loop-de-fucking-loops.

That’s when Tony knows he’s in trouble.

* * *

Of course Tony can’t deny that he’d been crushing on both Steve and Bucky for a little more than a year now.

But somehow over the course of the time it’s taken for him to date both men, he’s come to realize that these crushes he’s been harboring for them are beginning to blossom into something dangerous. It makes it even worse when he comes to realize that not only has he not had sex with either of them, but that he’s starting to realize that he’s more than okay with that. Not to say that Tony _doesn’t_ want to sleep with them, because he _does_ \--oh how he does--it’s just that he realized he wanted much more than that. He _wants_ to sit and watch _Cutthroat Kitchen_ with Steve on the couch, he _wants_ to keep fixing Bucky’s arm in his lab, and he _wants_ to have them both in his apartment with him, each doing their own thing. Hell, he even wants to make _food_ for them! Tony is a conservative consumer of take-out, fast food, and pizza--he _doesn’t_ make food; he doesn’t _cook._ But for Bucky and Steve, he’s willing to go out and buy a cookbook and make all the recipes inside it! _Twice!_

When it’s a slow day at the shop, and Natasha and Clint are there, and he’s not expected to be, he complains to them both loudly about his predicament.

“This would be so much simpler if it were only about sex!” He laments from his reclining position on the glass counter.

Natasha and Clint were not surprised when he told them he was seeing both Bucky and Steve. Tony wasn’t sure if it was because he was _that_ transparent about his feelings towards either of the two men when they came into the shop, or if they were informed by their boyfriend who no doubt has bugs planted all over the shop to listen in on conversations. Tony’s money’s on the latter option.

“Why would that be simpler?” Clint asks, not bothering to look away from the leashes and collars he was hanging up on the hooks in front of the counter.

“Because then it would only be a question of having a three-way!” Tony says.

Natasha arches a perfectly penciled eyebrow at him. “And pray, do enlighten me as to what you think happens in polyfidelity relationships?” she asks.

Tony shifts uncomfortably. “No, it’s just,” he sighs as he gathers his thoughts. He stares up at the ceiling. “I love three ways,” he says to the shop. “They never expect you to stay. Just a nice fuck, polite offerings of food and drink, and then that’s the end. Don’t have to see them again and that’s it. Just a good time and you’re done.”

“But?” Clint leads.

“They each have someone of their own,” Tony explains. “One other person that they have in their lives that are special enough that they’re committed to them for _life_ \--two people that I’ve never even _met!_ I don’t even know what they think about this whole situation! And apparently they’re both perfect examples of what a human being is to even _allow_ it, much less _agree_ to it! How am I supposed to compete with _that?”_

There’s a long drawn out silence before he feels a soft touch on his shoulder. He shifts his head to the right and meets Natasha’s eyes.

“I know it’s hard to understand,” she begins gently, a softness around her eyes as she stared down at him. “But what their partners might think of you is not your concern. You are _not_ in a relationship with their partners, you’re in a relationship with _them_. Love is not a competition, and you shouldn’t stress yourself over something you can’t control. If you feel that uncomfortable about this, you need to have a talk with them about it.”

Tony sat in thought over it all night in his apartment. It wasn’t just what Natasha had said, true as he knew it was, but it was just that...Tony wasn’t _good_ at relationships. Period. Any good intentions that he’d had at the very start of them to make them last, inevitably crashed and burned horribly by the end of it because he was him and that was that. So no, Tony didn’t do relationships; he barely did friendships and somehow managed to not completely fuck up the precious few he had. And he knew that Rhodey, Bruce, Pepper, Happy, Tasha, Clint, and even Coulson didn’t stick around for his money, or (mostly) for the shop, so he constantly wondered what the _hell_ he had done to somehow convince them all to stick around despite everything yelling at them to head for the nearest exit.

But there was something about Steve and Bucky that just made him want to give the whole relationship thing a try, as horrible as he knew he’d inevitably be at it. The question though was how he could choose just _one_ of them when he wanted them both.

So one night while Steve and Tony were having pizza at Tony’s apartment, he brings up the Jerk.

“You know you’ve actually never told me your boyfriend’s name?” Tony said, picking up a slice of pizza and bringing it to his lips. “Every time we talk about him, you just call him ‘Jerk’.”

Steve smirked, dunking his slice of mushroom sausage into his ranch dressing. “Actually, you know him already.”

“Oh really?” Tony asks, opening his mouth to take a bite. “Who?”

“It’s Bucky,” Steve says.

Tony’s head snaps up to look at Steve and, in his shock, drops his pizza, where it lands at his feet with a _splat_. Steve laughs at the expression on Tony’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, lifting up his hands. “But _what?”_

Steve glances away, uncomfortable. “Yeah, um. You have every right to be angry, and I’m sorry--”

“I’m not angry,” Tony interrupted quickly. “A little surprised maybe. Irritated, definitely, but only because all this time we could have been hanging out together instead of apart--”

Steve looked up at him in surprise. “Wait, really?”

“Well yeah,” Tony says immediately. “I mean I’ve liked hanging out with you both individually too, don’t get me wrong--except now that you’ve told me Jerk is Bucky, all the things he’s said about Punk suddenly sound a helluva lot like you--but it’d be great if we could all three get together.”

Steve gives him a warm smile. “We’d both really like that actually.”

Well at least that takes the faceless partners Tony had been picturing the entire time he was with either Steve or Bucky out of the equation.

* * *

A few nights later, Tony meets them both at a restaurant a few blocks away from the shop.

He expects it to be awkward and strange, but oddly--isn’t. It’s like they’ve been together for years, the way the three of them trade playful jibes back and forth and laugh without a care in the world. Tony doesn’t touch either of them, because he’s not comfortable doing that just yet. They must catch on because they don’t touch him either, but are more than comfortable giving each other small touches and affectionate glances in front of him.

Throughout the dinner, Tony looks at them both, and can’t help but wonder what the fuck they’re doing with _him_. They’re fucking _perfect_ together: childhood sweethearts, married in every way but in name, and they’re so fucking _adorable_ together that it hurts Tony’s heart just to look at them. No matter which way he looks at it--trauma, intimacy issues, performance anxiety--he can’t see how he fits into this, and he really doesn’t want to try if the cost would be splitting them apart. He can’t come between them, he’s not going to risk something so obviously special and worthwhile just to satisfy his own selfishness at the thought of having them both in his life.

So once dinner’s over and they go their separate ways, he decides to do what he thinks is best.

He goes off the grid.

He ignores their texts and calls. Whenever he spies them coming into the shop, he ducks into the stockroom in the back and waits them out. They’ve called the shop a few times asking for him, and when it’s picked up by either Natasha or Clint, he tells them to say that he’s out and they don’t know when he’ll be back. He just gives up answering the phone altogether, in case it’ll be them calling.

He starts to isolate himself from them, trying to put as much distance between himself and Stucky (yes he’s given them a portmanteau shut up) as much as he can. It eventually gets to the point where he just gives in and locks himself up in his apartment where he has a Crisis with a capital C.

It’s Day Two of his Crisis when it occurs to Tony that maybe he should get up, shower, go through his routine; make an effort to be more human. Except that would take too much effort on his part, and just laying in bed is just so much easier than getting up and facing the world.

* * *

Pepper’s the first one to check on him. He’d forgotten he’d given her a key to his place a long time ago when she complained about him holing himself away to work on his projects, and she insisted on having a key so then at least she could check up on him to make sure he was still alive.

It doesn’t occur to him Pepper’s even there until she’s slammed the door to his bedroom loudly and he practically flies off his bed in surprise. He looks up at her from his nest of blankets and groans when he catches the dangerous expression on her face.

“What’s this I hear about you locking yourself up in your apartment to pine?” she asked.

He groaned, flopping back into his pillows. “Pep--”

“Don’t ‘Pep’ me,” she started, anger tainting her tone. “I am speaking as your business partner right now. I own twelve percent of the business. I’m already running the online store, you have to run the warehouse. _That_ was the deal, remember? _That_ was what we agreed on when we started this ridiculous endeavor of yours.”

“I know, but--”

“No buts!” she yells. “Now get off your self-depreciating ass, and go do something about your angst so you can get back to helping run the business like you’re _supposed to be doing_.”

“I can’t do it, Pepper,” he whined pathetically, closing his eyes.

She frowned down at him. “Can’t do what?”

He waved his hand at the ceiling, as though to encompass the whole situation in one gesture. “This... _thing_ , we’ve got going on. I can’t do it, I don’t want to come between them,” he murmured, dropping his hand on his stomach. “They’re like that perfect couple everyone aspires to be, and if I _did_ somehow manage to get a relationship, I’d only fuck it up because that’s what I always do because I’m _me_ , and I don’t even know _why_ you all bother putting up with me because I’m such a fuck-up.”

Pepper looked at him with her patented Exasperated With Tony expression, only it was softer than usual. “Oh Tony,” she said, sitting on the edge of his mattress, making it dip a little.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, curling onto his side towards her.

“So your solution is to isolate yourself away in your apartment until you die?” she asked, reaching out to stroke his hair comfortingly.

He shrugged. “Or until I get over them. Because I will, sooner or later. Personally I’m really hoping it’s sooner.”

She sighed again. “Oh my god, Tony, you’re such an idiot.”

He looked up at her, hurt. “Hey now,” he said.

She placed a hand on his cheek and stared straight at him. “We all hang out with you _because_ you’re you, Tony,” she said. “We don’t expect anything less of you, and neither will Steve and Bucky, if you give them a chance. Because, from what I’ve heard about the situation, that sounds like it's exactly what they want.”

She left a few minutes later.

* * *

Clint was the next person to check on Tony. He’d been dozing in his bed when he felt something repeatedly poking his forehead. He opened his crusty eyes and was surprised to see Clint prodding him in the forehead with a finger.

“Do you mind?” he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“When was the last time you showered?” Clint asked, wrinkling his nose and ignoring Tony’s question.

Tony frowned in thought. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s not good,” Clint said with a resigned sigh.

“Yeah well _you_ try pining after two people and then tell me how it goes,” Tony said offended, as he lifted himself up so he could sit against the headboard of his bed.

Clint shuddered. “Done enough of that, thanks.”

They stew in the silence for a bit before Clint finally gives in.

“Look,” he says dropping to sit at the edge of Tony’s bed. “I should have told you that Bucky and Steve were together in the beginning, I know that now. And Tasha’s been mad at me for keeping that fact to myself so I’m already suffering enough for it as it is. But the fact is they _both_ like you. They _both_ have gone out of their way just to say hi to you--hell just to even get a _glimpse_ of you--for the past few _weeks!_  From what you’ve told me about the dates you had with them, it’s obvious that they’ve been dropping hints that they want more with you like bombshells.”

“But they don’t _need_ me,” Tony complained, trying to make Clint understand. Why was no one _getting_ it? “And I don’t want to get in-between what they’ve already got with each other because I’ll just end up _wrecking_ it.”

“Do you really think Phil and Natasha need _me?”_ Clint shot back at Tony, pointing at himself. “You don’t think I wonder every fucking day what the hell these two incredible people see in a white-trash boy from Iowa like me that they’d willingly _choose_ to put up with me for the next foreseeable future? Everyone gets crippling self-doubt when it comes to relationships, Tony, _everyone_ ,” he repeats when he sees Tony open his mouth to argue. “It comes with the territory. On the one hand, we _could_ split up, but we know we’d be okay. We’d survive without each other, and we’d be fine--except we wouldn’t be happy if we did that because that would be fucking _miserable_ and it’d _suck,_ and that wouldn't be a life. So we just have to reassure each other from time-to-time that _yes,_ I need you, because I honest-to-God _love_ you, and I would choose you every single _fucking_ time even though you drive me nucking futs.”

Clint took a breath, and sighed it out. He turned to look at Tony and gave him a little smile before shrugging. “And anyway this doesn’t have to be a crappy movie’s overly complicated love-triangle, Stark.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, brow furrowing. “Change the shape from triangle to circle?”

Clint nodded with a pleased smile on his face. “Exactly.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What like--what you, Coulson, and Nat have?”

Clint shrugged again, that was getting really annoying, Tony thought distantly. “Why not? You like them both, don’t you?”

“Well _yeah_ , but--”

“Then what’s the problem?” Clint asked. “Just invite both of them over--after you’ve showered, eaten and cleaned up the place a little bit--and then, oh-so-casually say to them that you want to have lots of sex and adopt puppies together."

Tony spent the rest of the night stewing Clint’s advice over.

* * *

Natasha was the last to visit, and was the most terrifying one of all.

Tony had been fast asleep, tired by the way his thoughts were circling in his head like a carousel working on overdrive, when all of a sudden he’s thrown off his bed and sprawling on the floor; his blankets, sheets, pillows, and _mattress_ all on top of him.

Once he’s successfully scrambled out from underneath the nest of blankets and managed to get his heavy mattress off of him, he sees Natasha looming over him, hands on her hips and standing on the frame of his bed.

“Get up,” she orders. “You _are_ going to take a shower, and then you’re going to start acting like a functional human being. If you don’t do this in the next five minutes, I will _make_ you.”  Then she stomps out of the bedroom, giving him some privacy. He didn’t need to be told twice.

After he’s showered and dressed, he leaves his bedroom. In the kitchen he finds Natasha arranging pancakes on a plate for him. He sits at the breakfast bar and she slides the plate towards him, arching her eyebrow pointedly. He picks up the fork she’d set down and starts eating.

“In a polyamorous relationship, communication is key,” Natasha begins, pouring orange juice into a glass. She holds herself like a professor about to give a lecture. “Although things went great between Phil, Clint and I when we got together, it still takes a _lot_ of communicating to keep things balanced.”

Tony continues to eat his pancake.

“I disapprove of them not telling you from the start that they were together,” she says, leaning on the counter. “I’m sure they have a good explanation as to _why_ they kept such an important fact hidden from you despite they were both seeing you, and I cannot _wait_ to hear what that explanation will be, but the fact is that this is a huge hurdle you’ll all have to work hard to climb over if you want this relationship to work.”

Once he’s finished with his food, he hands the plate and fork back to Natasha before chugging the rest of his orange juice. She puts them all in the sink to be washed. “Think about what you want while you’re cleaning up the place,” she says before approaching him and pressing a quick kiss on the top of his head. “I expect you in at the store tomorrow morning.”

She’s already opening the door to his apartment to leave, before turning back around and saying, “Also, as much as I love that idiot, don’t take Clint’s advice on how to tell the people you're in to that you want a polyamorous relationship with them ever again. Because that was horrible advice.”

Then she leaves and he’s alone again with this new information.

* * *

After spending the entire day cleaning his apartment, Tony goes in to work the next day. He’s even there to open the shop, a thing he hadn’t done in a long time.

It doesn’t surprise him that both Steve and Bucky come in a few hours later while he’s there working behind the counter.

“Hi,” he greets them tentatively when they approach him.

He can’t get over how different they are standing side-by-side: Steve, blond, short and skinny as hell; Bucky, tall, brunet and filled out in the best of ways. The only thing they have in common are their blue eyes, but even that’s barely true--Bucky’s are clear and pale like ice, and Steve’s are the warmest blue Tony’s ever seen. But watching them interact with each other, they’re the compliment of the other; two sides to the same coin. And that’s what makes Tony remember how perfect they are for each other, and how unnecessary he is. But he’d already decided that if he can’t have them both in the romantic sense, then he’d be more than happy to have them both as friends.

After all, they were friends before this whole mess started right? How hard would it be to be that again?

“Hi Tony,” Steve says, and oh god he looks like a kicked puppy and Tony can’t stand that; this is going to be harder than he thought. But as much as he wants to circle round the counter and take Steve in his arms and hold him tight, Tony stays right where he is and doesn’t move.

Bucky nods a greeting. “We’ve missed you the past coupla days. How’ve you been?” he asks. Tony shrugs it off.

“Oh you know,” Tony says. “Been busy. Had to take a break for a bit.”

Bucky stiffens like Tony’s slapped him and looks away. Steve puts a comforting hand on Bucky’s arm--his _left_ one, Tony suddenly realizes, and since when did Bucky start wearing sleeveless shirts?

“I needed a change,” Bucky says, reading Tony’s questions in his expression.

“Ah,” Tony says, dropping his gaze before lifting it back up again. “Still working okay? Everything’s alright?” he asks.

“It’s perfect,” Bucky answers, staring straight at him.

Tony really looks away now.

“Look Tony,” Steve starts. “We wanted to know if you’d come over to our place for dinner?”

Tony looks up at him in surprise. “Your place?” he asks stupidly. Because of _course_ they live together, idiot. How is it just _now_ occurring to him that that was why they always wanted to hang out at Tony's instead of their own place?

Steve smiles, as though he knew what Tony had been thinking. “Yeah. It’d be great to have you over, and Bucky makes a mean meatloaf.”

Tony should say no. He really should say no because this is dangerous. But he really misses his friends. And it isn’t really selfish if it’s just dinner, right?

“I’d love to,” he says instead.

* * *

Tony arrives at their brick studio apartment in Brooklyn the next night.

And Tony could just slap himself into a coma because of _course_. He _knew_ that they were both _from_ Brooklyn; it would make sense that they would know each other _._ Especially since they grew up in the same goddamn _neighborhood._  Why didn't he see that they were together _before?_

When Steve answers the door, Tony lamely offers the blond the bottle of wine he’d picked up on the way over. “Thanks Tony,” he says, smiling warm and bright. “C’mon in and make yourself at home.”

Tony steps inside and is struck by how much the apartment is a perfect blend of them both. It’s filled with an eclectic collection of furniture, a smattering of knick-knacks strewed all over the place, with a couple of bookcases crammed full with all kinds of books, and various artwork, posters and framed photos hung up on the brick walls. He’s relieved when he doesn’t find a dog.

He follows Steve to the kitchen where he’s greeted by the sight of Bucky waiting patiently by the oven with a red apron that says ‘You Know What To Do’ embroidered across his chest. “Hey look who I found,” Steve says, brushing past Bucky to get what turned out to be the bottle opener for the wine Tony brought. Bucky looked up and smirked at Tony.

“You took your sweet time getting here,” he said, teasing.

Tony flushed. “Yeah, well you know how it is,” he said with a shrug. “Sex happens.”

Bucky’s smirk grew into a smile. “Dinner should be ready in a bit,” he informs them.

“C’mon, Tony,” Steve said, tugging him out of the kitchen, showing surprising strength in his toothpick-thin arms. “You can help set the table.”

Tony groans but follows him to the wide table. “Why am I _always_ stuck with the _boring_ jobs?” he asks, helping Steve arrange placemats.

“Tell you what, Stark,” Bucky calls from the kitchen. “Next time, _I’ll_ set the table and _you_ can cook. How’s that?”

“Fine, but I can’t guarantee that you’ll have a kitchen left to cook in by the time I’m done,” Tony replies.

“As long as you try not to blow up the apartment, that’s all we ask.” Steve says laying out forks and napkins.

“No promises, but I’ll do my best,” Tony answers. He looks up to see Steve smiling at him, making Tony’s heart flutter in his chest like a goddamn bird in a cage. He frowns down at it. _Stop that,_ he reprimands.

It doesn't listen.

* * *

It’s a bit awkward afterwards once dinner is over, the dishes all cleared, and the three of them are left without anything to do except hang out in the living room drinking Tony’s wine.

And Tony’s thinking he should probably leave so they can have some privacy, since it’s obvious what’s causing all the awkwardness (hint: it’s him) when Bucky says from outta nowhere: “Steve grew a beard once.”

Steve spat out his drink and Tony sputtered out a laugh. “He did not!”  he shouted in disbelief.

“Buck--” Steve warns, but Bucky steamrolls over him.

“Yeah, he thought it would make him look older!” Bucky exclaims, grinning widely.

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Tony replies, laughing.

Bucky, smiling confidently, swaggers over to one of the bookcases and pulls out a thick, well-worn photo album from one of the top shelves. He sits with Tony on the couch, just to the right of him, and flips through the book before he finds the page he wants and points a finger to the picture.

Tony’s eyes pop out of their sockets and before he knows it, he’s doubled over in laughter. He’s laughing so hard his stomach is in knots.

“What the fuck is on your face?” he hoots, looking at Steve for an answer.

“Hey!” Steve squawks, flushing a bright red and rushing over to sit on Tony’s left to better glare at the pair of them.

“You look like a tiny lumberjack in that plaid shirt!” Tony manages to say between gasps, and that startles a laugh out of Bucky. Pretty soon they’ve collapsed on top of each other and cackling.

“Yeah, well, Bucky didn’t look much better,” Steve says, taking the photo album from Tony’s hands. “Do you remember that stupid hat you wore throughout sophomore year of high school?” he asks Bucky, smirking mischievously as he begins flipping through the album.

“Don’t show that!” Bucky yells, suddenly sobered, as he tries launching across Tony for the book. But Steve is quicker and he’s already found the page he was looking for and showing the photo to Tony.

Tony screams in laughter. He laughs so hard, he thinks he’s going to pee.

* * *

Pretty soon it becomes a contest to show Tony the most embarrassing picture they’ve ever had taken of them, but after a while dissolves to just showing Tony pictures of when they were both small--or in Steve’s case, small _er_. As the pages turn, and Tony sees more and more pictures of them both throughout their lives, and listens to different stories about all the crazy shit they got up to, Tony suddenly doesn’t want this night to ever end. He soaks up the comforting energy they’re projecting, and lets their chatter curl and settle around him like a well-loved blanket. The feelings of happiness and warmth they both make bubble up inside him make Tony aware of the fact that he won’t be able to leave this all behind without it breaking his heart first.

“God you two are so adorable it’s disgusting,” Tony says smiling sappily at them both, feeling so content between them, he could melt.

They share a matching smile and then aim it his way. “Yeah that’s why you put up with us,” Steve teases, with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Yup,” Tony says popping the _p._  He closes his eyes and settles back into the cushions comfortably.

Bucky chuckles beside him, and Tony can feel the rumble of his chest just from sitting this close to him. “Good looks, charm and wit, why else would you put up with us?” he asks, and someone’s stroking Tony’s hair and God that feels so good.

“You guys are also complete dorks,” Tony adds with a snort, smiling softly. Then he sighs and stretches like a cat, his back cracking with the effort. “That’s why I love you,” he grunts, settling back down.

An abrupt silence hits them like a bucket of ice cold water; popping the warm, happy bubble that had surrounded them. Tony’s eyes fly open when he’s struck by the realization of what he’s just said.

 _“Fuck,”_ he curses, throwing the book aside onto Steve and scrambling to his feet; he can’t get away from them fast enough. He rakes his fingers through his hair and tugs on the roots. “Fuck fuck fuck _fuck,”_ he hunches in on himself. “Fu-- _uuckk,_ ” he says, drawing out the word.

Bucky and Steve are silent while Tony continues to curse every cell in his body.

Once he manages to get himself somewhat together, he immediately apologizes.“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, quickly standing up straight, putting one hand over his eyes to hide himself, and the other on his hip. “I’m sorry I said that, I didn’t mean to say it. I shouldn’t have--”

“Well which is it?” Bucky asked. “You _shouldn’t_ have said it, or you didn’t _want_ to say it?”

Tony groans, and squeezes the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I _shouldn’t_ have said that,” he corrects. “I didn’t _want_ you two to know how I felt. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I’ll just gonna--”

“Tony, stop.” Steve orders, cutting him off mid-stream like a katana cuts through cabbage. “Look at us.”

Tony takes a deep breath, and lifts his hand from over his eyes. Both men are still seated on the couch where he left them. But instead of lounging around like they had just a few minutes before, they have both their feet planted firmly on the floor, and they’ve moved to the edge of the couch cushions, looking like they’re preparing to bolt. They’re both staring up at him intently.

“If you think,” Steve began severely, “that we are going to let you walk out that door after _just_ getting you back, and after hearing you _finally_ admit your damn feelings for us after _a year and six months of waiting,”_ Steve raised an eyebrow at him challengingly. “Then you’re crazier than we thought you were.”

Tony blinked at them. “What?” he asks, dumbfounded.

Bucky rolls his eyes. He waves a hand between him and Steve, and then at Tony. “The feeling’s mutual, dipshit,” he says, voice dripping with humor.

Tony stared blankly at them. _“What?”_ he asked again, voice raised in confusion.

“We love you too, Tony,” they say together, like they’ve practiced saying it a thousand times--except that sounds dumb even to Tony’s ears.

“Hold up,” Tony said, blinking the strangeness out of his eyes and raising his hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Back up. You’re gonna have to explain this to me. And use _small_ words because I don’t think my brain can take much more of this. You’re _both_ in love with me?”

“You said so yourself, Tony, ‘polyamory is a thing’,” Steve reminded him with a playful smile.

Tony frowned. “Okay, now you’re _really_ gonna have to explain stuff to me.”

Bucky and Steve both made faces, like the thought of explaining themselves was a chore they’d rather avoid. They looked at each other. Bucky pointedly raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, and Steve sighed. He dragged his fingers through his shaggy blond hair.

“Clint and Bucky have been friends since they served together,” Steve began, “and he’s been an even better friend since Bucky’s come back. So when he told us that he and Natasha had another person in their lives, we thought they were crazy. Then we saw them together, and it was like Phil had always been there--they just meshed so _well_ together.” He smiled up at Tony, then turned serious again.

“Okay so that day we met? The first time?” Steve asked Tony, flicking his eyes back up at him to check if he remembered. Tony nods affirmative. How could he forget it? Steve continued, “I was buying that dildo because Bucky and I weren’t being as intimate as we had been before he went away, and I was... _terrified_ he’d take it bad if I brought it up that I wasn’t feeling satisfied, so I decided to take matters into my own hands. So Clint recommended his place of work, and instead of seeing Clint there, like I had expected, I saw you. And I felt so awkward about it by the end, that I told Clint.

“So when he invited us to his party a few weeks before, we both accepted immediately, and on the night of, I was so sick I couldn’t get out of bed. Bucky didn’t want to go at first because I wouldn’t be there with him, and since he’s been back, social gatherings have made him feel extremely jumpy. But I threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t go, and I knew it would be good for him if he did.”

Tony hummed in agreement. It would be extremely uncharacteristic of Steve to threaten to kick someone’s ass and not follow through on it. After all, Tony’d been on the other side of those threats a few times and had actually gotten his ass handed to him.

“And Bucky met you,” Steve said, gesturing to Tony. He gave him a soft smile in appreciation. “And he liked you immediately. When he came home, it was almost like he was back to his old self.” Over the course of his tale, Steve and Bucky had migrated towards each other. Steve’s hand rested on Bucky’s knee, and Bucky’s metallic hand lay lax on the nape of Steve’s neck.

“But then a few days passed, I got better, and we were back to being closed off from each other. When it was obvious things weren’t improving between us, we decided to try something different.” Steve gave Bucky’s knee a gentle squeeze, and Bucky squeezed back. Tony was still having trouble understanding what this all had to do with him. "Bucky had liked you, and thought that you had some good ideas about sex and relationships, so he convinced me that we should see if we could get some pointers from you. When we met again, I was so jealous. What was it about you that made Bucky so comfortable in his own skin again? But as time wore on, I saw it too. Then we decided to try getting to know you, separately. Because we thought if we both jumped you, you'd spook. And apart from that, we also wanted you to know us as _Steve_ and _Bucky_ , not _SteveandBucky_."

Then Steve sighed again, like he was carrying the entire weight of the world on his thin shoulders. “And the thing is," Steve continued, voice gentle. "With me and Bucky, even though we’ve been friends forever, and love each other to hell and back--there’s just been something that we’ve been missing in our relationship. And it's left us both feeling unsatisfied. It’s like there's a rift that we can’t cross to each other, and no matter how hard we try, there's nothing to connect us together again."

He paused and took a breath. Then Steve gave Tony such an intense look that Tony felt like he was going to drown in his blue eyes. “Nothing until we met  _you,”_ he said firmly.

Tony felt his knees turn to jello. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

“Yeah, except that stuff _doesn’t_ happen to someone like _me_ ,” Tony cried in frustration. He began to pace in front of them, gesticulating widely.

“What do you mean, ‘someone like you’?” Bucky asked, insulted. “Do you think you’re not special or something, Stark? Because I’m telling you right now--”

“That’s not the point!” Tony cut him off as he continued pacing. “It's not a matter of being special or not--it's a matter of what people need _from_ me. People take what they need, and then they leave! That’s it! That’s how it works! They _don’t_ stick around, they _don’t_ need me, and they _don’t_ want me. They just need something and then that’s it! So I don’t get why _you,_ of all people, would _want_ me or _need_ me.”

“Haven’t you been listening to a goddamn word Stevie’s been saying?” Bucky asked, irritated.

“You'll be fine!” Tony shouted, stopping in front of them. “You were just _fine_ without me, and you’ll be _fine_ again once you leave! You don’t need _me!”_

“How could you think we don’t need you?” Bucky growled in frustration, standing up. He looked like there was something loose inside Tony and he was determined to shake him until whatever was loose clicked back into place. “You’re literally the glue that holds us together! We feel _normal_ again around you! _This_ \--” he gestured at him and Steve “--doesn’t work without you! It _can’t_ work without _you!”_

Bucky huffed a breath. Then he quietly, but firmly, added, “And we don’t want to try either.” He flicked his eyes back up to Tony’s. “Not if you don’t too.”

Tony felt like he’d been slapped. He stared in shock at those pale blue eyes of Bucky’s, then glanced at Steve and found his gaze just as penetrating as his partner’s. He felt very overwhelmed, and before he knew it, he’d sank into a chair. Steve immediately got up and they both stood around him, their hands touching him: Bucky’s on his left side, and Steve's on his right.

Steve crouched down until he was at eye-level with Tony. “The fact is, Tony,” he said quietly, “we really _do_ need you. It doesn’t feel right without you--it doesn’t feel _complete_. But with you, it’s like we’ve found the missing piece.”

He rested a hand on Tony’s knee, and the touch made every nerve in Tony tingle. “But if you don’t want to, that’s okay--don’t feel pressured to stay. But don’t think it’s because you’re not needed, or wanted by us. Because you’re right: we’ll be fine without you--but we’d be _happier_ with you than without you.”

Steve reached up and began stroking his thumb along Tony's cheek. Then Tony realized he was crying. He reached up and scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, knocking Steve's away as he tried to stop the flood of tears himself. Steve rested his hand on Tony's shoulder, and he gave it a comforting squeeze.

Bucky crouched down too and joined them. He gave Tony a soft smile and put one hand on Tony’s other knee and the other on his shoulder; mirroring Steve perfectly. “So how about it, Stark?” he asked, gently shaking Tony’s leg. “Wanna be our guy?”

Tony couldn’t help but snort despite the wet sound it made because of his runny nose. “That was the worst line I’ve ever heard,” he croaked, but when he looked up, he found two pairs of hopeful blue eyes watching him. “But yeah," he said, giving them a watery, yet warm, smile. "Yeah, I wanna give this a try too.”

They both smile at him like he’s given them the best fucking Christmas present in their entire lives.

Bucky kisses him first, and it’s hurried and hungry. When Tony pulls away to take a breath, Steve turns his head towards his direction and attacks his mouth greedily. They all exchange kisses like candy, their hands gripping clothes, caressing and stroking.

“Okay we’re gonna need to slow down unless we’re gonna move,” Tony says once he can take a breath.

Bucky chuckles and Steve smiles. They both stand up and each offer him a hand.

“C’mon, Stark,” Bucky says with a shit-eating smirk. “Admit it: you’ve fantasized over this for ages.”

Tony chuckled as he reached out and took both their hands. “Well maybe a few times,” he admits with an answering smirk.

Steve tilts his head upwards to look at Bucky. “Probably the same amount of times we’ve fantasized about him in our bed.”

And that’s got Tony’s heart thudding so hard, he thinks it's going to escape his chest. “Well what are we standing around here for?” He asked, giving both their hands a squeeze. “We gonna act out those fantasies or just chat all night?”

Their bright matching grins could light up the entire state of New York. Then they man-handle him into their bedroom, and--for once--Tony doesn't mind the rough treatment. Once they've got the door closed, they show him just how much he’s wanted. Afterwards when they’re exhausted and spent, they curl up around him, and, all on the verge of sleep, show him just how much he’s needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a few months, Bucky joins Tony at the shop, where he works hard at driving Tony insane. Steve still works doing comics, but does do some graphic design work for the shop occasionally. Including designing posters, business cards, and redoing their logo. Both employees get the seal of Stark Approval.
> 
> In another year, he, Steve, and Bucky move in together. After a few weeks, they adopt a dog. He's a chocolate lab and his name is Sam and he's the cutest fucking thing.
> 
> When they invite Phil, Tasha, and Clint over to their place for a party, Clint crows in victory.
> 
> "I told you not to invite Barton," Tony stage-whispers to Steve.
> 
> "Why? He's the whole reason we're together," Bucky says, pulling Tony closer to him so he could plant a wet kiss on his cheek.
> 
> "Yeah, I should get a party just for me for doing that," Clint piped up.
> 
> "Please." Tony said, giving his employee a flat look. "I know you only invited me to your stupid party to embarrass Steve."
> 
> Steve can't help but chuckle beside Tony. "He would have too," he confirms.
> 
> Clint gave them all an unconcerned shrug. "Hey I told you it'd be fun. Well," he says with a smirk. "Fun for me anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for the next chapter: I literally know nothing about working in a sex shop. Everything I found product-wise was basically from the website of a sex store located in Pasadena. The few things about PTSD I learned, were either gathered from fics or from what I've read online. I don't think it's as severe as other fics I've read, but please be warned anyway.


End file.
